


221b - Rise from the ashes

by Anarion



Series: An almost gravitational pull    (former '365 days of 221Bs' series) [404]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Aftermath of a fight, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, M/M, Making Up, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-05
Updated: 2019-04-05
Packaged: 2020-01-05 07:02:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18361010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anarion/pseuds/Anarion
Summary: Not a word was spoken between the two inhabitants of 221b Baker Street for three days.





	221b - Rise from the ashes

**Author's Note:**

> Previous part: [Ashes, ashes, we all fall down.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18064466)

Not a word was spoken between the two inhabitants of 221b Baker Street for three days. Until John came home and found Sherlock in the sitting room, three nicotine patches on his arm, three on the table.

“What the hell are you doing?”

Sherlock looked up and he looked exhausted and _raw_. “I apparently have done something wrong, but I’m not sure what. This seems to be a several-patches problem. I would go higher than six, but that borders on suicidal.”

John dropped onto the coffee table, pointedly on top of the remaining patches, and grabbed Sherlock’s wrist.

“I’m glad you were about to stop at six. This is not a several-patches problem. We just need to talk. It’s a no-patches problem.” _I hope_ , he thought.

“You hope,” Sherlock said. But he did take two patches off.

John looked at Sherlock and once again realised that with this, Sherlock was completely out of his depth. He straightened his spine.

“Listen, you did nothing wrong. I just never thought that we would have to talk about one of us wanting other people.” He was speaking to Sherlock’s wrist and therefore missed the look of confusion that quickly turned to pain and panic. Sherlock tried to pull his wrist back, but John was clinging to it like a lifeline.

“John…”

“No, let me finish. I know we never actually talked about being exclusive, I just assumed, and that is totally my fault.”

“John. What do you think that I did?”

“Well, um,… you wanted to get off and I didn’t and then you left and I…”

“You think I went out to ‘get off’ with someone else?”

“Didn’t you? You said you had an erection and you couldn’t think…”

“You rejecting me took care of that problem quite quickly. I went out to solve Lestrade’s dance club murder case.”

“I’m an idiot. Sherlock, I am so, so sorry.”

“What do we do now?”

John was still holding Sherlock’s wrist and his thumb was drawing little circles into his skin. When he leaned down and pressed a kiss to the spot, Sherlock was suddenly covered in goosebumps all over.

“Why don’t we stay here for a while? You can tell me all about that dance club case.”

“Will you pet my head?”

“Sure. Let me just go make some tea.”

Sherlock stretched out on the sofa, softly rubbing his own thumb over the spot John had just kissed. His gaze followed John to the kitchen, and he felt something that could only be called fondness (as he realised with indignation) when he saw that one of the patches was now firmly attached to John’s butt.

**Author's Note:**

> Gently pats all readers that were upset by the first part, especially the one 'sobbing vor sich hin'. Better now? :)


End file.
